


Say It Like You Mean It

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-13
Updated: 2006-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	Say It Like You Mean It

Pete used his key to let himself into the apartment. The cool November breeze tried to hustle its way inside with him, but he managed to hold the door against it and lock it. He rested his forehead on the smooth wood.

He didn't want to turn around.

That meant he would have to face reality, and reality was just a little too much for him right now.  
He actually spent five minutes locked in that position, hands fisted in the pocket of his jacket (no hoodie today, this was a week of changes), before he finally got enough courage to raise his head and spin slowly on his heel.

Patrick had been busy.

All of Pete's stuff had been neatly put into boxes and labelled. Patrick's clear handwriting was stamped on each brown side, obviously indicating what was within, but all Pete could read was _So This Is Finally Over_.

Fuck.

Fuck Patrick. If he wanted to end it like this, then so be it. Pete was tired of trying. So Pete made a mistake. It wasn't like Patrick never made a huge slip-up like this. In that last big argument, Pete had reminded him about Greg, and Patrick's face went into lockdown, and he had reminded Pete with quiet venom that at least he came to Pete and confessed; so there had been no need for any sort of payback.

Confession.

Is good for the soul.

Then Pete's soul was already condemned, because he had let it go so far, and there was no way this could be brought back. And it hadn't even been worth it.

He sighed. He opened back the door (why the fuck had he locked it in the first place? Oh yeah. Force of habit) and begun to move the boxes out to the catwalk, where he would relocate them down the stairs to the ground level. Put them in his car. And drive away.

He had the strongest urge just to grab them and toss them over the balcony, and listen to all his valuables shatter, destroying gifts of memories and dusty artifacts of dedication, because if you're gonna have a breakup, then let's just break the fuck _up_. But he exercised restraint, managed to get most of them down to the vehicle, and was taking up the last one up from in front of the television when Patrick walked in.

How beautiful he was. How utterly blown away Pete still was, even after the yelling and the accusations and the dirty hurt.

Pete looked at him, and Patrick stared back, his cool blue gaze sadly hostile.

"I thought you would have been finished by the time I got back," he remarked pointedly, tossing his keys on the side-table and resting his hand on it.

"Keep your fucking panties on," Pete snapped and that wasn't what he meant to say, that wasn't what was supposed to come out at all, but it did, and Patrick looked away, staring out of the big picture window that was across from the television. When he had first moved in, Pete had loved that massive window. They would spend hours spying on people through the soft yellow blinds, gossiping about the neighbours, and laughing at Mrs. Leland next door hanging out her massive white underwear; _sails in the wind_ , Pete had whispered one hazy Saturday morning, and Patrick had simply collapsed wth laughter on the sofa beneath the window.

"Just hurry up and get out," Patrick finally gave out icily, and went to stalk past Pete, and for some reason Pete caught his arm, and leaned in close.

"I'll take my time, thanks," he said, and Patrick clamped his hand on top of Pete's and tried to pry his fingers away. This was so fucking childish. The more Patrick pulled at his fingers, the harder Pete held on, ignoring the pain. Patrick's eyes were slitted in anger, and so Pete grabbed on to the other arm, pulled him in and kissed him roughly.

There was a moment of Patrick rolling his head from one side to the other, trying to avoid Pete's mouth, but Pete followed his movements, determined to just _break_ him, maybe in the same way he had Pete broken. Therefore, Pete was sufficiently shocked when Patrick stopped doing that, and just simply kissed him back.

This was the worst and best kiss they ever had. It was full of everything, from that first time they finally realised that this was a good thing (it was at Joe's birthday party two years ago) to last week, when they found out that good sometimes could go belly-up. It was so dark and messy, with Patrick's tongue and teeth at war with his, and Pete slid his hands from Patrick's arms to rest lightly around his neck, his thumbs pressing into that soft hollow in the middle of Patrick's collarbone.

He could feel Patrick's pulse thumping against his palm, and suddenly he wanted everything to just rewind and restart at the point where Pete saw Ryan and just couldn't keep his fucking self out of trouble; go back so he could kick his own ass, if possible. He wanted to tell Patrick that it all didn't matter, it was a mistake, it was the worst mistake he ever made, and he just wanted to lie down in that same sofa with Patrick again and watch the clouds skate by in the sliver of blue sky they could just manage to see between their building and Mrs. Leland's.

He couldn't find the words.

But he was trying to tell Patrick with his mouth.

He slowed down this kiss, taking out the poison out of it the best way he could, making every move count. Patrick's breathing slowed down too, he reached up his hands that had been resting on Pete's hips during all this and curled them around the hands on his neck. Patrick tried to tug them away, albeit weakly, and Pete stopped, pulling away a bit. Just a bit.

Patrick's eyes were shut tight and he shook his head a little.

"No. No, Pete."

Pete kissed him once more, so slowly this time, so honestly, and now all the dark was banished out of it, and Patrick was leaning into him. He stopped again.

"Please. Just...please, Patrick. I'm begging you," was all he had before he tried to kiss Patrick again. Patrick moved his head back, eyes still closed, his lips reddened.

"I don't want us to hurt each other again," Patrick murmured, and his eyes now opened only a little, and Pete could see a glittering blue line caught like an iridescent dragonfly between each set of his lashes. Pete placed a soft long kiss on his cheek, and Patrick shivered.

"Then let's not. _Please_ , Patrick."

And _please Patrick_ in the way their tongues were slipping together so sweetly and _please Patrick_ whispered between their mouths and _yes Pete_ in Patrick's hand against his back, pulling them closer together, and _yes Pete_ and _yes Pete_ and _yes_....


End file.
